


Harry Potter and the Legacy of Thor

by Blackenergy666



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Thor (Comics)
Genre: Asgard (Marvel), BAMF Harry Potter, Don't copy to another site, Harry Potter Leaves the Wizarding World, King Thor (Marvel), Magic, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Master of Death Harry Potter, Not Epilogue Compliant, Potter Familiy History, Powerful Harry, Powerful Harry Potter, The Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27662201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackenergy666/pseuds/Blackenergy666
Summary: When Harry died, he didn't expect much. He didn't know what to expect so he clearly wasn't ready for a meeting with the most powerful man in the Nine Realms. Nor was he ready to learn of the truth of his heritage.
Relationships: None
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	Harry Potter and the Legacy of Thor

**Author's Note:**

> Huge shout out to Raef, Scion of Grammar for making my ramblings legible. Please leave a review containing what you liked or disliked about this.

Harry stood straight and stared Voldemort down. He kept his fear tightly leashed as he saw the unforgivable green spell speed towards him and this time, he didn't try to block it. The spell hit him, and his world spun, then all was silent. He lay face down, listening to the silence. He was perfectly alone. Nobody was watching. Nobody else was there. He wasn’t sure that he was there himself. In truth, it was peaceful, and for the first time, Harry felt he could really relax and let go of his worries.

Time was meaningless, and Harry would have stayed there forever had he not heard a chuckle from behind him. “‘Tis a peaceful place, is it not, Harry?” The voice was old, yet strong, carrying a weight to it that Harry couldn’t comprehend. Raising himself off the floor, Harry turned and took in the owner of the voice. He gasped as he saw a man that could only be described as herculean who was adorned in a silver armor that did not cover his arms. A billowing red cape completed the look.

"Lo-Lord Thor!" Harry squeaked as he quickly knelt, flushing in embarrassment when he heard the legendary King of Earth and Asgard's booming laugh.

"Nay friend, you met your 'end—'" Harry could hear the quotation marks around that word "—as a Warrior. You need not kneel before me," Thor finished kindly, offering his hand to Harry. Nervously, Harry took it and stood.

"Ah, I suppose I should explain what this is all about," Thor spoke, chuckling at Harry's relieved look. “But first, some more pleasant scenery,” he said, casually gesturing and causing the serene area to morph into an ever-flowing garden, still every bit as serene as before, but now it seemed to radiate life as well.

"There. Now tell me, Young Mage, what do you know of your family's history?" Thor asked the young man before him, eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. Harry screwed up his face in confusion but took a moment to try and recall what he’d read about his family over the years.

"Umm, that Potters are guardians, that we almost always led the fight against the darkness and that we had a knack for finding trouble," Harry explained, confused and nervous as to why it was needed. Thor’s eyes glinted approvingly as Harry managed to mostly sum up what the Potters were known for.

"Indeed, all traits you inherited from me." A moment passed before Harry's eyes widened. "Yes, Harry, we are related, however distantly. You see, it was during my time on Earth, under the guise of a traveling practitioner and teacher, that I met a young woman by the name of Iolanthe Peverell," Thor spoke, and Harry's eyes widened at the surname given. "Yes, she was the daughter of Arcturus Peverell and Guinevere Gryffindor," Thor confirmed before Harry could even ask the question.

"Though I tried to not get too close, I've always held a weakness for mortal women, and as such, we were soon wed. I even told her who I was. It was during the great Slytherin/Gryffindor war, not that it was between Salazar and Godric, mind you. No, it was their sons, Alvertos and Beldon, who hated and despised each other. They caused the war and were the reason that we went into hiding, and that is where the name ‘Potter’ was born." 

"Of course, soon I could no longer stay on Midgard—Earth—and thus I had to leave. My beloved Iolanthe had already passed into the Halls of Valhalla, and I knew I'd see her again. But it is not her that is important here. As I'm sure you've realized, there would be tales of a Wizard who could do the things an Asgardian could do. Especially one of my blood. My son, Carvell Potter, the first Potter. I had to remove his Asgardian powers, to make him mortal. It broke my heart, but I did it. I took his divinity away," Thor spoke soberly.

"Only I was never good at using the All-Force, once the Odin-Force, delicately. There was still a spark of it within him. Mere embers, even in comparison to the embers in other Asgardians. But, it was enough. It made his magic strong, stronger than all but someone who wielded the Elder Wand. And most importantly, it was passed on. Passed all the way down to you Harry." Thor lightly tapped Harry's chest, causing a flicker of blueish-white light to emanate from the point he'd poked.

"...I don't see how this helps me. I'm dead," Harry said bitterly, turning away from the King. If he’d known about this before he let Voldemort kill him, he could have ripped the Horcrux out of his head with ease; hell, he could have reduced Voldemort to a screaming pile of atoms with a thought, he could have—

"Are you?" Thor asked. Harry's gaze snapped to Thor. "Are you not the one who’s gathered all three Hallows? Are you not the one who has Mastered Death? My young friend, you are only dead if you chose to be so," Thor said, his words seemingly calling the Hallows to Harry.

"I... I can save them? My friends?" Harry asked, stunned

"Yes. Yes you can," Thor said, "as for the first time, the Hallows have been gathered by one of my blood. By one who wields the All-Force."

"But, I-I don't think I'm worthy of such power. I'm just a man," Harry murmured.

"And it is because you question your worthiness that you are worthy,” Thor said. "Remember Harry, it was not my strength that made me Worthy of my powers, but my humility. A lesson I struggled, and still struggle, with. I have learned that those who don’t seek power are often the ones who are the most worthy of it.”

"But even if I go back, how will I know how to use the All-Force?" came the question for the young man. “I can barely use my magic; surely the All-Force is beyond me?”

"Believe in yourself, Harry, and the rest will come. Now, I believe you have a Dark Lord to defeat," Thor said in a grandiose tone. Harry opened his mouth to protest but shut it after a moment. His face hardened and his eyes began to shine with the same bluish-white light that had come from his chest earlier. Harry suddenly felt the knowledge of how to wield his new powers flow into him. He willed himself back to his body.

“He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds, killed while trying to save himself.“ He heard Voldemort say as he came too. Harry grinned; looks like now was his moment.

"Funny Tommy Boy, that's not how I remember it happening,” Harry said aloud as he stood up. "Oh, and thank you for keeping this safe for me," he added as he made a gesture, the Elder Wand surging from Voldemort's hand and into his own. In the same moment, Harry’s body rippled, growing from a small scrawny boy to a towering, Spartan of a man, his lean to the point of scrawny body filling out with muscle.

Next, his cloak appeared on his shoulders as red-and-gold armor, similar to Thor's, appeared across his body, A necklace with the Resurrection Stone appearing on his neck. Had Voldemort known, for the briefest of moments, that Harry was a God, he’d have been outraged and demanded Harry hand over his Godhood. As it was, Harry had merely used the awesome power of the All-Force to reverse the damage done to him as well as strengthen his magic.

Wielding the Elder Wand in his left hand, Harry summoned the Sword of Gryffindor into his right. He could feel his broken Wand merging with its handle, being repaired in the process. He grinned as he spoke again, eyes glowing bluish-white with the power of the All-Force, "Hello Tom. Did you miss me?"

Just like a bomb being dropped, it was quiet for a moment before all hell broke loose. Voldemort shrieked in rage as he wandlessly called his old wand into his hand, firing that toxic green spell he was known for the moment it was in his palm. Harry merely swatted it aside with his sword before conjuring a bolt of lightning to throw at Voldemort.

The fight was on. The people of Hogwarts were spurred on by Harry’s apparent resurrection while the Death Eater’s were infuriated by the light’s defiance of their master. Multi-colored jets of light shot from both sides, though Harry had to use his newfound Legilimency to nudge his side into using more aggressive spells. ‘ _ The reason this is even happening is because you didn’t get it right the first time, _ ’ Harry thought in irritation, unwilling to lose more people because of his side’s stupidity.

Privately, he thought it was funny. Only hours, Hel minutes, ago that he was so against killing that it was almost funny. But, speaking with the dead, being dead, had a way of changing one’s perspective on these things. He’d realized something he didn’t want to realize, that he was fighting a war, and that meant casualties. And he was tired of those casualties being on his side, being his friends and family.

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. “POTTER! HOW DO YOU KNOW THESE SPELLS?!” he roared, hurling a bolt of raw magical force at Harry, who merely swatted it away before conjuring a localized blizzard and trapping Voldemort inside it. Voldemort roared in fury as he wandlessly conjured an inferno, controlling it with his wand to destroy the icy prison. He let another roar out when Harry used a concentrated jet of water to douse it.

“Being the Master of Death has its perks, especially when you combine that with my heritage” Harry said, using his Legilimency to read the minds of his parents, Lupin, Sirius, and Dumbledore, learning all of the spells they knew in mere moments. 

To prove his point, he conjured Sirius’s favorite statue and animated it to attack Voldemort with one of his mother’s spells. He used James’s knowledge of runes to make said statue as magically resistant as he could and turned his attention to the Death Eaters. With a flick of his wand, he shot a blasting curse with such precision that it impacted Lucius Malfoy’s wand, destroying it along with his arm.

Noticing his side’s reluctance to really fight, to treat this as a battle and not a schoolyard skirmish, he used his mind magic to speak into the minds of his allies. ‘ _ If you do not intend to take permanent actions against them, throw your wand down and hide. I will not let a third war happen because you failed to learn from history. _ ’

He could feel but did not care for, their disgruntlement. He was done cleaning up their messes. Sensing his statue’s destruction, Harry turned and slashed, cutting a vile-feeling curse out of the air. Voldemort hissed, in Parseltongue, several curses and spells. Harry merely wove around them, summoning a Death Eater into their path when he couldn’t dodge. The All-Force blazed in his veins as Harry used it to teleport behind Voldemort.

“Stormfyre!” Harry roared, conjuring and controlling a bluish-white flame that he shaped into a sword around the Elder Wand. The Sword of Gryffindor lit up with an immense aura of the same color, the raw power of the All-Force taming Nature’s Fury and allowing Harry to draw strength from the heavens.

Voldemort growled as he called the Staff of Slytherin, a staff one of his ancestors had made in an attempt to be greater than Gryffindor, to his left hand. Next, he cast the Fiendfyre curse to turn his wand into a sword of flames as Harry had done. His vile flames consuming the magic in the air to sustain itself.

The duo charged at each other, magical force and silent spells being thrown from their weapons as they clashed, flames and thunder consuming the battlefield. The other combatants were forced to hide, lest they be consumed in the side effects of the clash. The clashes built, preventing the others from seeing the battle. But they could feel it, the magic and skill being thrown around, the power—it was too much for them.

In desperation to defeat Harry, Voldemort drew on the Dark Mark, draining the Death Eaters of their magical strength. Harry responded by drawing on more of the All-Force, using the storm of magic around them to feed and strengthen it. Voldemort stumbled as Neville, in the actions of a true Gryffindor, called the fabled sword to his hand, the blade fading into existence in Neville’s grip, and slew the last Horcrux, along with a small contingent of achromancula’s attempting to sneak into the school.

Voldemort gasped as the last of his anchors was destroyed. Harry, at that moment, punched his adversary in the face, the blow loosening the Dark Wizard’s grip on the Staff of Slytherin, which Harry promptly took, tearing it from his foe’s hands and imbued it with his magic and All-Force.

With a herculean thrust, he pierced Voldemort’s chest and finally vanquished him. And with that, he’d destroyed the Death Eaters, for with the loss of their master they were rendered unable to regain their magical strength and left squibs. Harry allowed himself to relax. It was finally done. He could finally live his own life, finally, be his own man.

* * *

It had been a long, arduous three weeks since the battle that had started when Harry had vanished in a flash of light after defeating Voldemort and had just gotten worse from there. Ron and Hermione had fought so much that’d they split, but remained friends. Shacklebolt was the intremin Minister and summarily was swamped in “Where is Harry Potter” questions and demands. It was like the country had stalled.

Ginny, Ron, and Hermione were swamped with hate mail, as it was believed that they drove Harry away. It never entered the minds of the masses that it was their fault. For three weeks, they had endured until finally, Harry resurfaced. He asked Hermione and Ron to meet him at Godric’s Hollow.

“So, what’s this about mate?” Ron spoke, sitting down at a fancy table with a steaming cup of tea just waiting for him. Harry was once more different than before, sporting the shadow of a beard on his face and much more obvious muscles. He wore his Invisibility Cloak on his shoulders, under which he was adorned in a set of formal combat robes. 

“Straight to the point huh?” Harry asked, sipping some of his own tea as he waited for Hermione to sit down, a gesture from his off-hand pulling the chair out for her.

“Thank you. And yes, Harry, we want—need— no,  _ deserve _ to know what happened,” Hermione said, pulling her chair in and reaching for her tea.

Harry nodded his head. “You do, and that’s part of why I called you here. The other part is this.” He pulled the Hallows from his robes and laid them on the table, the Elder Wand near Ron while the Resurrection Stone faced Hermione. 

“... Why are you giving us the Hallows, Harry?” She asked, brown eyes locking with emerald ones as she searched for an answer.

“Because the Hallows are not meant to be brought together for more than a galactic moment.” A sigh escaped Harry’s lips as he spoke. “The Master of Death is only meant to be that for a few cosmic minutes. Death is a part of the Natural Order and the one who mastered Death can pervert that order. These Hallows are simply not meant for a mortal master.”

Harry paused, both to take a sip of his tea and to collect his thoughts. “And as it stands, I’ve overextended my claim to the title for a few hours. But I had some healing to do, healing that only the Master of Death could do,” he spoke somberly.

“You’re the reason Remus and Tonks are back!” Hermione, always the first to understand subtle and dual meanings, gasped. Ron’s eyes widened in shock.

“Yes. I lucked out; their souls had not left for the great beyond when I called them to me to learn their knowledge and skills.” Harry explained, mentally counting down ‘til Hermione figured out how he was able to do that.

“...but even if you put them back in their bodies, they wouldn’t have any connection to them because of the killing cure… it’s true isn’t it?” Hermione asked, once more locking eyes with him. Her gaze widened at his knowing look.

“‘Hermione, what are you on about?” came Ron’s confused demand. 

“The Rumor that the Potter’s are Godspawn,” she began, eyes never once leaving Harry’s “It’s the only way he’d be able to revive them.” 

“Blimey, mate, it’s true isn’t it?” Never let it be said that Ronald Weasley was a poet, but few could match his grasp of stating the obvious.

“Yeah, it’s true. King Thor is my ancestor, along with Ignotus Peverell and Godric Gryffindor.” Harry spoke of his lineage proudly. 

“... Bloody Hell!” Hermione gasped, the full weight of Harry’s family hitting her like a truck. She slumped in her chair as she realized that her first friend was Wizarding Royalty.

“Language Hermione!” Harry and Ron giggled, almost falling from their chairs when Hermione huffed and flipped them off.

“Anyway, getting back on topic,” Harry spoke up after recovering, “when I learned that I was to surrender the Hallows to other people or toss them into the Veil to be spat out when they were needed, I could think of no others I’d trust with these items. So, I must ask, will you take them?” he spoke seriously, looking them in the eyes.

“Yes,” they both said, steely resolve in their eyes.

“Then, Hermione Jean Granger, do you swear to wield the Resurrection Stone with utmost care and responsibility?” Harry’s gaze bore into her as he asked this, the air becoming tense with Magic.

“I Swear,” she said, feeling the magic pulse in acceptance as she took the Stone.

“And you, Ronald Billius Weasley, do you swear to wield the Elder Wand with the utmost humility and discipline?” Harry’s gaze turned to Ron, bringing with it the same tension as before.

“I Swear,” he said, the magic once more accepting his vow. 

“Then reach out and claim your Hallow. But know this, a hell beyond your imagination awaits you should you abuse these gifts.” The ritual done, Hermione took the stone and placed its necklace around her neck. Ron picked the Elder Wand up and holstered it in his spare wand sheath, he was in the process of training to be an Auror but he knew he needed two wands.

“We understand Harry. Thank you for trusting us,” Hermione said softly, realizing the depths of Harry’s trust in them and making a silent vow to never break that trust.

“Yeah mate, it’s an honor,” Ron added, already planning to hide the Elder Wand somewhere so he’d never be tempted to abuse its power.

“Now that the Hallows are sorted, time for the other point of this meeting,” Harry said, gesturing and conjuring three-pint glasses, which rapidly filled with an orange liquid.

Hermione and Ron shared a look; this wasn’t a good sign. “Which is?” Hermione prompted, watching as Harry downed half of his glass in one swig.

“What we are going to do with the Death Eaters. Yes, they were stripped of their magic, but they still gleefully tormented those unable to fight back, and Azkaban would kill them.”

At the topic of discussion, Hermione downed half of her glass as well, a little happy that it refilled.

“What about Nurmengard?” Ron suggested, nursing his mead like a beer.

“A good idea,” Harry approved before speaking aloud. “Now, as for how to get them there, I’ll leave that in the capable hands, of our esteemed minister; Kingsly.”

“... You’re leaving, aren’t you?” she said suddenly. Ron’s eyes darted to his long-time friend’s in hope of seeing a lie. He slumped when he saw nothing but the truth.

“My friends? No, never. Magical Britain? Yes. I won’t be used as some Ministry lackey, nor do I have any desire to teach,” Harry said firmly. Ron and Hermione’s memories of his transparent disgust at the Battle of Hogwarts surfacing in their minds. They didn’t like it, but it made sense.

“Where will you go, mate?” Ron asked, never entertaining the thought of trying to make him stay.

“That’s the cool thing, Ron; I don’t know, but for the first time in my life, I get to choose,” Harry said with a weary but happy tone. 

“Ah, sounds like you’re going to play it by ear?” Ron grinned, playfully prodding his best mate.

“Hey, it’s worked fine, hasn’t it?” Harry said with a shrug, a chuckle escaping his lips as he and Ron caught sight of Hermione’s eye roll.

“Urg, boys!” she huffed, causing the men to laugh. Hermione joined in after a moment, content in the knowledge that she wasn’t losing a friend, just giving him some room to breathe and grow.

And so, they drank, sang, and laughed the night away, enjoying the first night in years of carefree laughter. For tomorrow was the start of a new day, a better day and they could finally close the chapter of the war.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this, once again, please leave a review containing what you liked or disliked about this.
> 
> and if you wish to talk to me about my works, I can be found [here](https://discord.gg/n97GeZe) and [here](https://discord.gg/kKC2tw3)


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